


Silver Lining

by Severina



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: tv-universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has a moment to see the relief in Daryl's eyes before the hunger takes over and Daryl steers him toward the nearest tree, shoves warm questing hands under the hem of his T-shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> Post Season One. Written for LJ's tv_universe community for the romance trope prompt, "moment killer"
> 
> * * *

They're at the new campsite for four days – and one the move for almost a week before that – before Daryl catches Glenn's eye and then disappears into the woods.

Fifteen minutes later Glenn hefts a jug and makes an excuse about going down to the brook for water. He spends another two minutes patiently explaining to Shane that he doesn't need a bodyguard, an additional minute promising Lori that he'll be careful and watch his back. By the time he meets Daryl half a mile into the greenery he's nearly crawling out of his skin in anticipation.

He follows Daryl silently through the trees, stepping carefully through the underbrush until Daryl stops in a small clearing bordered by a grouping of gnarled, overgrown bushes. He can't hear the jug fall when it drops from his hands into the moss; comes up behind Daryl and wraps his arms around the man's waist. "Two weeks is too long," he mumbles into Daryl's spine.

He feels the tension drop slowly away from Daryl's body as he turns in his arms, props the crossbow against a rotted log. Has a moment to see the relief in Daryl's eyes before the hunger takes over and Daryl steers him toward the nearest tree, shoves warm questing hands under the hem of his T-shirt. 

Glenn lets his head fall back against the bark, closes his eyes as Daryl's hands rove over his skin, as Daryl's head ducks down to nip and suck at his neck. He grabs onto the back of Daryl's head, tugs at his hair until Daryl gasps and presses closer, molds their bodies together and leaves his neck to eat greedily at his lips. Glenn swallows his moan, hooks a leg around Daryl's thigh and reaches for his zipper. 

It's always like this – the denial in the camps and on the road; the furtive glances, hoping that their companions don't see; the longing and tension building until they almost burst from the heat of it. Daryl's call, and while Glenn's agreed to it he doesn't have to like it.

But he likes this – tucking his hand inside Daryl's open zipper, the thick, meaty length of him is his palm. He starts a smooth, rapid rhythm, grins when Daryl groans and pulls away from his mouth. "Keep that up," Daryl warns, "and you're gonna make me come right here."

Glenn frowns but slows his movement. "Isn't that the point?" he answers, arching his brow for good measure.

"Not if you want—"

They hear the snarl a half-second after the crack of the branch, stumble away from each other when the walker crashes through the bushes. Glenn trips over an exposed root, goes down on one knee hard enough to knock his teeth together and briefly see stars. He shakes his head, turns to see Daryl diving for the crossbow and coming up an inch short as the walker staggers into him, rolling them both over in the springy moss. 

Glenn scrambles to his feet, slides his knife free of its sheath and kicks out with one sneakered foot. The impact knocks the walker's head back, its teeth snapping together inches from Daryl's bicep, gives him time to drop back to his knees and sink the knife into its skull. 

He sinks back onto his haunches, breathing heavily for all the wrong reasons. Watches as Daryl pushes the walker off his body and stumbles to his feet, snatches up the crossbow and turns in a circle, eyeing the surrounding woods. It's only when Daryl's shoulders drop and he lets the crossbow hang loosely from his fingers that Glenn is able to move, tug his knife from the rotted carcass of the walker and get wearily to his feet.

He watches Daryl's chest rise and fall rapidly as the other man straightens his clothes, tucks himself away.

He swipes a hand over the back of his neck, greasy and sweat-soaked. And knows what he has to do.

"Maybe we ought to just… stop," Glenn says haltingly. 

He can feel Daryl's eyes on him, the sudden stillness of the man. 

"Running around, hiding this from everyone… you could have gotten killed!" Glenn stalks back and forth in the clearing, stares down at the walker and resists the urge to take out all his frustration on its rotted corpse, to let loose, to kick and scream. He takes a shallow breath instead, looks up to Daryl's eyes. "The risks we have to take to do this. To be together," he says. "It's just not worth it. You could have _died_ just now. Being with you isn't worth losing our lives."

He opens his mouth, closes it again. He's always hated hiding who they are, what they feel. He understood it more when Merle was around, kept up with it after Atlanta because he knows how difficult coming out can be. But Daryl already knows all this, and the last thing he wants is for the man to feel like he's to blame. 

When Daryl just ducks his head and picks up his crossbow, Glenn takes his silence as acquiescence. And even though it was his decision, he still feels like he's in mourning.

They don't speak on the walk back to the camp. The silence presses down until it feels alive, a pulsating presence in the air. And Glenn wants to take it all back, tell Daryl he can't possibly face this existence without him, tell him that he'll do anything to be with him, keep sneaking around, keep hiding. Then he remembers the walker lunging out of the bushes, the foul stench, the savagery of the snapping jaws nearly ripping into Daryl's flesh. And he keeps his mouth shut and trudges on. 

By the time they reach the camp Glenn is half a dozen steps ahead of Daryl, scuffing his feet through the dirt and thinking only of getting to his tent, burying his face into his pillow and putting this awful day behind him – possibly with the help of the mickey of Jack he's been hoarding since the CDC – when he hears Daryl yell behind him.

"Yo, old man! Me and Glenn need to use your Winnie for an hour!"

Glenn stutters in his tracks, raises his head. 

"Sure," Dale calls down. "What are you boys up to?"

"No," Glenn mutters under his breath.

"Need to fuck," Daryl yells back. "Too dangerous out there! Took out a walker 'bout two miles back."

"Oh my god," Glenn murmurs. He turns around slowly, not surprised to see every eye in the camp on them. Rick and T-Dog look amused – and frankly, not all that surprised. He sees one of Lori's hands fly to her mouth to cover a laugh, while she halfheartedly tries to shield Carl's ears with the other. Out of his peripheral vision he sees Shane snort, get up from the log he was sitting on and stomp off, shaking his head in disgust. 

"Well I'm not staying up here on watch if you're going to—" Dale starts. He's already halfway down the ladder from the roof of the RV, and Glenn has never seen him move so fast. And, he realizes, Dale doesn't look very surprised, either. 

Glenn starts to wonder why they were sneaking around all this time, anyway.

"I'll climb into one of the trees, keep an eye from there," Andrea tells Dale with a laugh. She easily catches the rifle Dale tosses down, strolls past Glenn on her way to the new lookout. "Have fun, Glenn," she teases.

"He loves me," Glenn says feebly. "He really does."

"Glenn!" Daryl yells. Glenn looks up, wonders if he's losing time or had some kind of a mini blackout – or maybe a stroke, even, it could totally be a stroke – because he sees that Daryl is already inside the RV, leaning out with one hand on the jamb. "Get your ass in here! We only got a damn hour!"

Glenn forces his legs to move toward the RV when Daryl ducks back inside, feeling like he's stuck in some sort of weird reverse walk of shame. He hears T snicker as he walks past, sees Carol smile weakly at him before turning away with her arm around Sophia. He mounts the steps of the RV slowly, pauses on the top step to look over his shoulder. "You're not all going to stand around and—"

"No!" Lori says. She makes an effort to wipe the goofy smile of her face, and fails miserably; waves an arm in the general direction of the ravine. "We'll just—"

"Right," Rick says. "Over there."

"I've got tons of shit to do," T-Dog puts in. "Somewhere far away. Definitely not here."

Glenn sighs, shakes his head before shutting the door on their broadly smiling faces.

The interior of the RV is cool and dark with all the shades drawn, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. He finally makes out Daryl standing halfway toward the back, all stiff lines and taut shoulders.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," Daryl answers. He's been worrying his thumbnail again, Glenn sees, only drops it from his mouth when Glenn takes a hesitant step toward him. 

"So," Glenn says. "That was…surprising."

"Thought about what you said," Daryl says. He lifts a shoulder, ducks his head before lifting his eyes. "You okay with it?"

Glenn imagines that the teasing they're both going to get when they reemerge from the RV will be about a thousand times worse than what he got in high school. And he hasn't forgotten the foul look on Shane's face when he stalked away, either… so some of it might be worse than teasing. But the thought of being able to live openly in the camp, to take Daryl's hand when they're sitting around the campfire, to kiss him if he damn well feels like it, to be able to relax and not have to worry about everything he says and does? That's worth all the teasing in the world _and_ whatever Shane wants to dish out. Besides, he can fight a lot better now than when he attended P.S. 119. 

He grins suddenly. "I'm… really great with it, actually."

He watches the tension go out of Daryl's body slowly, one muscle seemingly relaxing at a time. By the time they reach for each other all of Daryl's hesitancy is gone, but the frantic touch that Glenn is used to is replaced by gentle discovery; by Daryl's fingers skimming up his ribs, sliding unhurriedly over his stomach. Glenn takes in a gasping breath when Daryl's mouth leisurely explores his, pulls back enough to meet his eyes.

"What?" Daryl asks. He grins slowly, wantonly, drops his eyes to lets his gaze drift across Glenn's body; glides a finger lightly over Glenn's nipple and draws a surprised gasp from his lips. He leans in to nuzzle behind Glenn's ear, finds the spot that makes him shiver. "We got a whole hour," he breathes against his skin.

They make every second count.


End file.
